


wear a necklace of hope (side by side with me)

by chatonnerie



Series: The Hanging Tree [2]
Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Recovery, Sickness, TW:, The game is trying to rig in their favour to get them together, Wangxian in the Hunger Games, Wei Wuxian is dense, Wen Chao and Wang Lingjiao are there, and he still doesn't pick it up, as always, soft Wangxian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-11-02 12:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20747396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chatonnerie/pseuds/chatonnerie
Summary: In the lair of a now-dead monstrous beast, trying to heal a best friend he'll have to kill anyway to get out alive, and his hope slowly fading along with Lan Wangji's pulse, Wei Wuxian was maybe, just maybe starting to feel like he wasn't ready for the Hunger Games.And then the Gamemasters sound a Feast.





	wear a necklace of hope (side by side with me)

**Author's Note:**

> Hunger Games AU! Wangxian style!  
Wei Wuxian is putting in maximum effort and it is very exhausting
> 
> Inspired by an ask on @lansizhuis' tumblr (https://lansizhuis.tumblr.com/post/187788508725/because-ive-fallen-back-into-the-hunger-games-i),  
(please go check them out if you haven't, they are amazing!!)
> 
> title taken from 'the Hanging Tree'

For the full enjoyment of the audience’s entertainment, the word reached them right _after _Wei Wuxian fell to the ground and started sobbing into his knees.

It wasn’t a bang, but a deep drawn out horn, sounded throughout the entire arena like a call to arms.

_“A [FEAST] has been laid out for all remaining Tributes. Please return to the Cornucopia to find a package for each Tribute, containing [that which you need more than anything].”_

He wasn’t even embarrassed that he did the whole slow look up from his knees, before just bursting into heavier tears.

“ . . . Wei Ying?” 

He stifled his rather unattractive blubbering, turning to the rasping and shaking voice. “Yeah. I’m here. I’m right here, Lan Zhan.”

When he entwined his dirt stained fingers with Lan Zhan’s, all he could think of was how sweaty his companion’s palms were, the flush of fever even reaching down here.

It was a far cry from what he first looked like.

Wei Wuxian could still remember his first impression of Gusu’s male Tribute, behind the fancy screen of the train’s TV on the way to the Capital. Lan Wangji had volunteered, just like him, but whereas his mad dash had been the antithesis of graceful, replayed countless times during his time in the Capital’s too-bright entertainment spotlight for laughs, Lan Wangji had glided up the stairs like some sort of God in regal form.

An honour, the commentators had said. Gusu was one of the Career districts, and the Lan family were some of the most skilled swordsmen in all of the country. A member of their family always volunteered sooner rather than later.

(Even back then, when all Wei Wuxian had cared about was fulfilling his promise to Jiang Yanli and coming home, he’d still felt a twinge of pity. After all, wasn’t it so funny that the _second _son in the family had been the one to ‘so eagerly volunteer’ the year _right after _the first son became too old to compete?)

Lan Wangji certainly had carried himself like a swordsman, all elegant posture, and lethal grace. He walked in clothes of white without getting a stain on them, performed flawlessly during training, had even been the only person to get a judge’s score of [12]. Wei Wuxian, an orphan adopted into the Jiang family, had certainly been left with the impression of nothing less than royalty upon seeing the other.

Oh, how the mighty fall.

Lan Zhan was laid out beside him, on as many of their clothes that they could spare to make the cave floor any less miserable to sleep on, huddled in on himself, flushed head to toe, sweat shining on all visible skin and long fine hair, once silken and flowing, now matted and ragged. He’d tied as much of it up as possible, bundling it up as a substitute pillow, but his companion was too restless, shifting back and forth in whatever sleep he could get, more movement than he did when he was up and walking. His right leg, dislocated knee popped back in and makeshift splint holding the broken bone together as best as Wei Wuxian had managed, was undoubtedly the worst. Already the open wound on the side, thankfully no longer oozing blood, was still damp with pus, pink from the infection now ravaging the once regal teenager.

The Xuanwu of Carnage might now be laying dead in its underground lake, blood filling their claimed refuge with its odour, the rotting flesh accompanying it even less appealing, but its jaw had successfully done a number on Lan Zhan’s leg. He could still remember it, when his eyes were closed - swimming underneath the monster more quietly than he had ever swum before to set up his traps, of Lan Zhan lighting the ring of lanterns to confuse it, climbing into the shell and skewering its neck.

He had memories of madly swimming for freedom as it thrashed in the metal strings he’d strung up underwater, narrowly dodging dislodged stalactites, as Lan Zhan had dashed in towards the immobilised monster, swinging his sword down on a neck that belonged far more on a giant snake than a giant turtle. The white swordsmen hadn’t flinched as it had twisted and struck at his leg in retaliation, simply gritting his teeth and finishing the job of cleaving its head off.

The kill had been rewarding - stores of food aplenty within the shell, arrows and ammo for his traps, armour for Lan Zhan, and even a huge macabre iron sword that screamed ‘MacGuffin’ so loudly some Gamemaster must have definitely written it for a tabletop campaign, completely forgotten about his actual work, and then just transferred the idea over in a panic.

Still though, as he sat sprawled on the cold, damp rocks, a pair of feverish hands clinging to his own like a lifeline, he was starting to wonder if any of the rewards made up for the cost.

(Well, they couldn’t have escaped without killing it, but the point stood)

But now?

(Now he had hope.)

A Feast. A Feast with ‘that which they needed more than anything’.

What could that be but the medicine to treat Lan Zhan’s sickness?

Slowly, he turned and inspected their various belongings, weighing up the lightest amount of gear he could get away with.

And the hand around his tightened.

“_Don’t_,” Lan Zhan rasped, golden eyes unfocused, but no less intense. Wei Wuxian swallowed, shifting around onto his knees beside his partner and gripping his wrists.

“It will be the medicine. The Cornucopia is only, what, five hours north-west? I can get there and back before tonight’s death cannons~!”

“No . . .” Lan Zhan shook his head, stubborn as ever, “not . . . not worth it.”

Something in his gut twisted as that and he scowled, “You’re going to die, Lan Zhan! That seems worth it to me!”

“One of us was always going to die.” Lan Zhan retorted, and Wei Wuxian flinched, “But one of us can still live. If you . . . if you go . . . “

“I won’t die.”

“Too risky.” Lan Zhan was mumbling, over and over, “Too risky. Other Tributes . . . in the open . . .”

“Which is why it was put at the Cornucopia in the first place,” he pointed out, trying to push his friend, “but we’ve made gambles before, haven’t we? And they paid off in the end. We just need _one _more.”

“But if . . . if you . . .” Lan Zhan interrupted himself with a cough, whole body shivering from exertion and sickness and Wei Wuxian immediately knelt beside him, adjusting the cold cloth on his forehead and rubbing soothing circles into that too-hot back.

He almost missed Lan Zhan’s whisper.

“ . . . You need to return to your sister.”

He stilled, turning to look down at those golden eyes, searing into him. Burning with the memory of the small admittance Wei Wuxian had mumbled, in those unending nights spent in the Capital.

(Had he really once considered them void of emotion?)

Somehow, he managed to crack a smile, “And don’t you have to get back to your brother? Your point cancels out here, Lan Zhan.”

“ . . . You made a promise.”

“Yeah, and I made one with you, too,” he caught Lan Zhan’s chin and stared at him deeply, “we’re not abandoning each other.”

Lan Zhan grimaced, struggling to sit up. Wei Wuxian immediately shifted, ready to help if he needed to puke or something and was instead caught off guard as those shivering arms wrapped around him.

He stiffened, rigid, as Lan Zhan _cuddled him_.

“Then . . . then don’t abandon me . . .” Lan Zhan whispered, voice almost broken, “don’t go . . .”

Wei Wuxian stared at him helplessly.

“. . . Okay. _Okay_, I’ll stay. I’ll stay if you get some sleep, you big baby.”

Lan Zhan probably tried to give him one of his signature withering gazes, but his red rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks just turned the whole look into one big childish pout. Wei Wuxian made a vaguely affirming noise.

“Right, right, you’re not a baby, my bad entirely.” He shifted a bit, moving from on his knees to cross legged, and slowly pulled Lan Zhan back into his lap, “But you will go to sleep, right?”

“. . . Nn.”

“Lan Zhan.” He sighed, a trace exasperated, “Why not?”

“You’ll leave,” the other mumbled, churlish, “you’ll go anyway.”

“I just said I wouldn’t?”

Lan Zhan squinted up at him, “Wei Ying is a liar.”

“Ouch.”

Lan Zhan pouted up at him, and he couldn’t stop the little laugh at the expression, “What’s that look for? I said I’d stay, so I’m staying. Have a little faith!”

Lan Zhan just held up a hand.

“What’s this?”

“Promise.” Lan Zhan intoned, with all the seriousness of a minister as he held up his pinky. Wei Wuxian struggled not to laugh,

“Ah, Lan Zhan, you really are too cute-AH AH AH, what’s this for?!” he demanded, as Lan Zhan’s spare hand got a grip on his wrist and that not inconsiderable grip strength _squeezed_.

“Promise!” the man demanded and this time he just nodded, trying to match the demeanour as he dutifully linked pinkies and shook on it.

“Yes, yes, this one will be by your side, Lan Zhan. Now, please try to get some sleep,” he stroked the back of his hand over that sweaty forehead, gently pushing fingers against temples and kneading. The iron grip on his wrist slowly relented and the head in his lap slumped, cuddling up against his leg, breathing weak and laboured. Gently, Wei Wuxian took flushed arms and crossed them over Lan Zhan’s chest, like he knew the man preferred as his sleeping position.

(He’d laughed for a few minutes about how it made him look like a figure in a coffin. The indignant scowl he’d gotten in return had made him laugh for hours)

Unable to help himself, he reached down and pressed his palm against that burning forehead. The cloth was doing shit all. The problem was the infection itself, and a malnourished immune system wasn’t going to be able to handle that on its own.

[That which you need more than anything]

It was good that, aside from Shijie, any of the promises that he made were more guidelines than actual oaths.

Gently, oh so gently, he eased Lan Zhan’s head off his lap, swapping in their two ‘Capital-Gifted Tribute jackets’ underneath to be the pillow instead. After a moment, he also took off the huge black jacket that he’d kept from the Cornucopia, all the way back on Day 1, and bundled it around the figure - where he was going, the colour would only make him stand out more.

And then, even though this cave was probably the most obscurely located hidey-hole in the whole Arena, he positioned _Bichen _– because of course Lan Wangji named the thing - right beside his partner, before hastily packing up what he needed in the little backpack that he’d similarly snagged from the Cornucopia.

He sent his partner once last glance as he headed to the minute cave exit, pushing aside the boulder they’d used to disguise it. The white figure, bundled in black, so motionless he almost rushed back to check that pulse.

In his defence, Lan Zhan wasn’t exactly going to wake up unless he was already back with their package, so he wasn’t _technically _causing his partner distress.

(And hey, if he did, he wouldn’t be in any right state to know anyway)

Hefting the backpack and bow, he leveraged the boulder shut and began the hike for the Cornucopia.

He’d estimated the Cornucopia had been about five hours away - in the end, he made the trip in just over three.

Their arena was a monstrous arrangement of canyons, ravines and stone labyrinths, interwoven together like a giant ants’ nest. The Cornucopia was right at the centre, in the middle of a valley from which the various canyons grew up and out from, and the ravine, that ran along the entire south of the arena, was at its most northern turn where it fell in a sheer drop beside the Cornucopia, surrounded by plunging cliffs, every square inch filled with caves and underground passages, the endless maze as deadly as the monsters lurking within.

There was always variation in the arena, so even if it wasn’t obvious like different vegetations, or separate collapsed cities, there were still the minor differences.

To the north west region lay the highest caves, some of which climbed all the way up to the clouds, visible from all over the arena - the north east were shallow desert scrag, the rocks protruding from the sand in abstract arrangements rather than forming any substantial walls before reaching the southern river, pouring through the ravine.

The ravine area had the most complex of the underground caverns, immense passages of crystallised salt and minerals, overflowing with dark dwelling beasts and a distinct feeling of dampness to the whole set up, as the water all trickled into a unilateral direction towards the river.

He and Lan Zhan had hooked south, keeping alongside the river both as the only source of water in the arena, and to maximise Wei Wuxian’s home advantage when it came to water combat.

(Honestly, if the ravine hadn’t been there, he’d have been pretty fucked, no doubt about it. Rising up into the completely stone arena of death had almost made him step off his platform to just get it over with quickly).

He knew the other surviving Tributes would be coming down from north - where from specifically, he had no clue, but he did know he and Lan Zhan were the only ones left in the south.

(Memories of the fight that had them falling through claustrophobia-inducing rocky crevices, right into the lair of the Xuanwu, threatened to rear their heads and he aggressively shoved them down)

Carefully, oh so carefully, he approached the Cornucopia.

He’d found a barely visible cave opening that overlooked the immense Golden Horn, looking so visibly misshapen after the multiple numbers of days exposed to the blistering sun.

(Another incentive to go deep into the damp underground)

And huh. The Game Masters had cleared away the boulders.

(He still remembered the glee over starting that landslide on Day 1, pre-emptively ending the bloodbath as countless Tributes were sent scattering off in all directions, lucky to even have a single weapon)

(Ah, when some had braved returning and tried to ambush him in revenge, that had been the first time he and Lan Zhan officially teamed up . . .)

He knew the area around the Cornucopia pretty well, the various collapsed canyon walls that blocked off some stretches and revealed others, the little shelters cut into the cliffs, the honeycomb tunnels that riddled every single wall, and the 250 metres or so distance of uneven ridged ledges, each progressively dropping down until it reached the sheer cliff of the ravine drop.

He came up and around, working his way up through the tunnels to a small cave opening on the north side of the Cornucopia’s open area, a ramp of loose stones leading down to the flat.

The ridges were directly opposite him, a straight sprint towards the ravine, and river below, tunnel exits puncturing dark holes into the landscape.

And there, right between him and his escape, lay a small almost insultingly normal table, upon which sat four packs.

He instantly discarded two of them: an elegant satchel, woven from golden thread which would be for Lanling, and a bright red backpack, emblazoned with a sun, for Qishan.

The two he was interested in lay beside them.

A simple handwoven fishing basket, for Yunmeng. And a pristine white ornamental pouch, for Gusu.

Crouched as he was on the edge of the cave, his fingers drummed reflexively against the stone, licking his lips and fixating his eyes on his two targets, wondering if there would be some sort of signal, waiting for someone else to move first. The silence was thick, and somehow, he knew the other Tributes were all similarly poised, waiting for the standoff to end.

He hated waiting.

Without any prompting, he took off, skidding down the collapsed cliffside and sprinting across the open canyon, dimly aware of several surprised shouts echoing through the cavernous expanses, but ignoring them completely, pounding towards the table as fast as he could, snatching up the two packs and continuing straight without stopping. He didn’t bother trying to snatch other bags, he wasn’t up for a pursuit. He just needed to get in and get out.

Get back to Lan Zhan.

Ahead, the series of ridges spread out before him, the ravine beyond.

There was an echo of thunder in the canyons and he swore violently as one of his legs suddenly erupted into pain, downing him to his knees as he cradled his all-important packages to prevent them from hitting the ground. He narrowly avoided biting his tongue as his jaw slammed into sun packed earth, merely gritting teeth against the pain, and rolling sideways as another bullet glanced off the ground beside his head, sparks lighting up in his peripheral. His momentum carried through and he somehow managed to roll up back onto his feet, adrenaline sending his heart into overdrive as he dove into the honeycomb network of the cliffs. Not yet the ravine edge, but close. Inhaling softly, he dropped against a wall and yanked out a bandage, hastily fastening a tight enough binding to start cutting his circulation.

Already, he could see the blood trail showing his location like a spotlight.

“Wei Wuxian!” the arrogant voice echoed over the canyon and he swallowed, “Come out, come out wherever you are~”

Wen Chao. The most arrogant of the Careers, Wei Wuxian’s landslide had thrown a spanner in the Qishan Tribute’s exquisitely detailed plans on Day 1, rubbed in all the more that after Wei Wuxian had taken his time picking what he wanted from the abandoned Cornucopia, he’d thrown the rest of the supplies down the ravine.

Wen Chao’s family had compensated by using sponsor money to paradrop him a fucking gun. He wondered idly what it was that Wen Chao could possibly ‘need more than anything’ with his disgustingly rich family backing him, before shaking himself back into focus. If Wen Chao was here, then that meant

“JiaoJiao, have you found him?”

“Don’t worry, Young Master! The scanner’s getting a read right now!”

Wang Lingjiao, the other Tribute from Qishan. She and Wen Chao had spent their whole publicity stunt framing themselves as tragic lovers - born from different social classes, only finally being able to be together in a death tournament that pitted them against each other.

He idly wondered how many voices had contributed to the rule change - that a couple could pass.

Ah well. The two from Qishan were the only couple left so it didn’t affect him anyway.

What did affect him was the scanner she had been airdropped, which could lock in on genetic signatures and track them down, as, right now, she was no doubt using his blood to track him.

He checked that his binding was working, the blood was no longer dripping, and set the tiniest of tripwires at feet, before pushing back against the stone to get up, his adrenaline dangerously depleted from his mad dash, rendering it unable to dull the pain bursting through his left calf with every step. He could dig the bullet out later.

Later.

_Later_.

The pair held no fear as they languidly ambled after him, comfortable in the knowledge that he’d just gotten shot through the leg. Clearly, they’d underestimated the amount of fucks he’d progressively lost over his time here.

Ripping off the ends of a bandage, he balled it up and stuffed it into his mouth, biting down against the pain as he began walking grimly through the tunnels. He’d brought the compass, so he pulled it out, dutifully moving in the direction of the exits nearest to the ridges. He’d originally doubted the item, only to discover that of the handcrafted arena walls, only _some _had metal that fucked up the needle. Around the Cornucopia, it would be fine. Every step burnt, but he ignored it in favour of tracking the shadows around him, moving towards the most distinct ones, knowing that was where the best chance of finding a light source, and thus an exit.

Sure enough, waiting just a bit ahead, was a crack in the wall, light streaming in, and beyond it lay the distinct glint light reflected up off the river, bouncing off the walls and displayed behind the ridges. He was close.

So_so_close, to pulling this off.

Still, he waited, cautious, listening.

Somewhere in the caverns, a loud bang echoed as his tripwire was triggered and the bomb attached to it went off, collapsing the tunnel. Unfortunately, no cannon blasts accompanied it, so he merely grimaced and _ran_. Adrenaline built up, numbing his leg, as he dashed out into the open, sun immediately pulling sweat up against his neck, his destination _right there._

A metal ball rolled near him and, without hesitating, he paused and kicked it as hard as he could. The grenade slammed into the nearest wall, right as it went off and he stumbled from the explosion, alarm filling him.

Explosives hadn’t been rare in this arena - the walls were packed full of gunpowder in favour of other minerals, but Wen Chao had never bothered with it.

So.

That meant . . .

Loose pebbles rattled above and he threw himself sideways right before the Lanling Tribute, Jin something (god he didn’t _care _at this point) plunged his javelin into the ground, not bothering to grab it on the way past as he charged at Wei Wuxian, hand already moving to the sword sheathed at his waist. Wei Wuxian gritted his teeth, and against every instinct screaming at him to run, turned and met him halfway. The other Tribute was clearly surprised, not expecting the 186cm teen to slam straight into him. They both grunted as their bodies slammed together, and Wei Wuxian just reached down and ripped the sheath off, chucking it far away, just in time for a fist to slam into side. He gasped, recoiled and deflected the next blow, striking with a low kick that the other dodged using enough time for him to reposition himself with his back to the ravine, allowing the blows to lead them both towards the edge, the smooth terrain of the Cornucopia only just giving way more and more to the uneven ridges.

_“_Did _any _of you go for your packages, fucking hell?!” he snapped, dodging the right jab and kicking out viciously. The Lanling Tribute just easily dodged aside and swung his fist right towards Wei Wuxian’s lower jaw.

He caught the uppercut, using the grip to yank the teen off balance and kick him away in the gut, hoping the other would go down hard into the dirt.

And as the teen gagged, he just used his free hand to reach into a pocket and hurl something right into Wei Wuxian’s face as he went backwards.

Vicious burning filled his eyes and Wei Wuxian screamed, immediately doubling over and pressing his hands against his eyes, stumbling back, disoriented, and ignorant to the first uneven ridge his back heel clipped. He gasped as he fell backwards onto a lower ridge, slamming spine-first into the rocky ground, head bouncing, even as the word remained blurry from the pain and tears.

(“Ah, Commentator Yao, might that be . . .?

“Quite so. I believe that would be Fire Sand. Nasty stuff - the sensation is akin to a hot iron being held against the exposed skin, and it usually causes temporary blindness until it’s washed out from the eyes. Tribute Jin must have found it in the north-east.”)

Wei Wuxian struggled for breath, panic built up and out of control, as he failed to squint as best he could, trying to fight the pain seeming to strike directly into his brain, the world nothing but a smudge. With a harsh exhale, he rolled onto his stomach, feeling around. He gave a grunt of triumph as he brushed fingers against his bow, wrapping a hand around the grip and getting up to his knees. He tried opening his eyes, but all that was revealed was irritated red and tears. Scuffling was approaching and he could feel the tremble in his arms, recognised the sound of a sword being unsheathed.

Fuck.

Fuck.

_Fuck._

His right finger brushed the fletching of an arrow, and he took a steadying breath, rising to his feet and instead closing his eyes.

_Listen_.

A scuff of a boot. A pant of a teen. The movement of loose rocks.

He drew in a single fluid motion, pivoting towards his target as he yanked his shoulders fully back, eyes firmly shut against the pain as he released the shot.

His reward was the startled shriek, the distinct sound of an arrow sinking into flesh, but no cannon blast to signify a critical hit. It was still the breathing room he needed to fish out a water bottle and splash his face. It helped a bit, and he blinked through red to finally see a silhouette struggling, a long thing that had to be his arrow impaled in one of the legs.

Another figure appeared behind him.

Wei Wuxian startled back as Wen Chao’s gun fired, the Lanling Tribute twisting to hold him off, and that was all the warning he had before wire appeared around his neck and _pulled_.

“Oh come on!” he demanded, reaching back and scrabbling for the slight figure, hard to see even with working vision, “What, is this ‘Pick-on-Wei-Wuxian-Day?”

Wang Lingjiao giggled in a way that she probably thought was coquettish but instead just sounded more like a strangled cat.

Ironic, as he kicked back, trying to loosen the cord digging into his airways.

“Where’s your White Knight?” she cooed in his ear, “Did he abandon you to save himself?”

“Like hell he would!” ah, there she was. He kicked down with a vengeance and she shrieked as his heel drove into the sensitive ridge of her foot, giving him the space to elbow back into her solar plexus. Before she could recover, he reached up and gripped the garrotte wire, getting a hand firmly between it and his throat, breathing in a sorely needed lungful of air as he yanked it away, the ends slipping out from her unattended hands. It was an effort, blinking around the smudges, as he gingerly stepped on the uneven terrain, keeping half of his attention on the recovering teen in front of him, the other on the two scrabbling just out the corner of his eye.

(They were backing off?)

A huge rumble echoed beneath his feet and he immediately crouched low as the ground creaked with the sound of stone against stone.

The two on the side were replaced with a wall of black and he tensed, twisting around, but only seeing a single silhouette. Startled he tried crawling backwards, only to come up against a stone wall.

What?

That had not been there. All that had been behind him were the ridges, each different . . . levels . . .

He figured it out just in time for the ridge he was on to suddenly drop. He yelped, crouching as low as he could, gasping as it ground to a sudden halt and immediately soared upwards. This time, as it paused without warning, the force almost flung him right off, legs coming down over the edge, barely able to get them back up before the ridge dropped once again, grinding with the neighbouring rising ridge, the space between them a more effective guillotine than any blade. Around him, beneath the grinding of the unevenly moving ridges, he could pick out the three other voices, but he just struggled to refocus, glancing around each time his own platform rose to its peak height.

Smudge, smudge, darker smudge, BRIGHT - that must be the Cornucopia. He waited for another cycle of drop and rise, turning a 180 turn, to identify the eerie glint. _That _had to be the light reflecting up from the river. Carefully, he turned around, crawling his stomach to the edge of his moving platform, right up until the edge, and waited. About halfway through the fall, the neighbouring platform shot past, close enough for the air current to nick the skin of his nose. Slowly, carefully, he moved up onto his knees, hand against the ground, picking up his heels. He waited another round, checking his time, and then, as his platform fell, he jumped. There was a moment of terror as he felt nothing.

Then stone slammed into him and he huddled in tight as he rose up on the neighbouring platform. Good. _Great_. The other three’s voices had gotten distant, so he had time. For the next platform, it was falling as this one was rising, which meant he’d have to drop instead of jump. Carefully, he listened to the grind of stone, the current of air, and moved his feet so they were brushing against the lowering platform. As soon as it vanished, he slid off his own, falling and crumpling as he hit the ground. It reached the bottom of its rotation and rose up, the eerie glint now probably only about two platforms away. He reached down and drank a mouthful of water, splashing the rest over his eyes, carefully beginning to wipe the sand out. His vision was still red from being irritated, but the pain in his brain lessened slightly, the landscape taking edges and textures. Around him, the various ridges rose up and down in uneven waves, a circuit of rippling ground. Right ahead lay the drop and now, able to actually see a bit better, he observed the platforms between them, counting the timings under his breath and preparing to run.

The shriek above alerted him to crouch as Wang Lingjiao lunged onto his back, scratching at his face.

“Come back here, you bastard!” she howled, “I’m going to tear off your limbs, then your ears, then your lips, then your hair-!”

“Yeah? Try and kill me first!!” he hunched over his knees, then slammed his skull backwards.

Lights danced as he felt it connect against something that definitely felt like a nose, giving him space to twist loose and shove her away. The squabble had both of them overbalance as the platform sharply rose, Wei Wuxian falling on his ass, whilst she pitched forward, just managing to catch herself, head hanging over the edge. The approaching platform beside them rose and she screamed, yanking her head back and leaving her arms exposed in the same motion. Wei Wuxian watched blankly as the limbs got caught between the two and red paste stained the ridge before him in sharp rip of severed flesh and bone. She fell back, severed hands bleeding over the platforms, tears of distress pouring down her cheeks, as the seventeen-year-old just began howling over and over.

Wei Wuxian slowly rose to his feet, watching her blankly, as he slowly pulled together his askew belongings, everything sealed nice and tight.

He still had an arrow. It was almost too easy.

In the distance, he could see the shape of someone approaching. Knowing she was watching him, half-terrified, half-resigned, he tried not to look back as he just reached forward, snatched the tracker from her belt and turned, lunging across the final two platforms and hurling his body off down the ravine.

He had jumped into the ravine multiple times during the Games, so he just held everything tight, bag and weapons wrapped up in his arms, breath held and face clenched, as he slammed into the water. The river was moving fast enough through the ravine to have white water churning the surface and breaking the tension, but pain still erupted at the point of contact, squeezing his lungs as he crawled up to the surface, the barely considered bullet wound aching in spades, cold seizing his limbs.

Without looking back, he began carefully paddling down the river, knowing the current would carry him back to the small inlet right outside the hides-hole, too powerful to swim upstream, but thus powerful enough to shorten the trip back.

He had just turned a corner, when a cannon sounded back the way he’d come and he gritted his teeth, just continuing to swim, clinging to his belongings. It was Wang Lingjiao, probably, all bled out. He wouldn’t consider anything that happened to be but a consequence of her desperate ambush, but it would still be his kill so who was he kidding?

He doubted it was the death of either of the two other boys - they seemed to have split, only Wen Chao coming back for his partner. If the cannon hadn’t fired before, then the Lanling Tribute must have fled, probably back to the Feast.

On the bright side, at least the water seemed to have washed out the last of the sand.

Steeling himself with that note, he shifted onto his back, floating feet first down the river, current easily carrying him along, and took a few minutes to recover, before rolling over and properly beginning the long swim back.

It was cold.

His throat stung.

Exhaustion and pain clung to him equal measure. All in all, it was long, far too long, until he stumbled out of the water, limbs aching and bandage ready to fall apart, veritably dragging himself out of the river and up the sand bank, ignoring the grains clinging to his front as he stumbled back to safety. He didn’t have the energy to do anything but throw his weight onto the branch he’d jammed the boulder shut with and hinging open the ‘door’.

At the sight of Lan Zhan, sprawled in front of the exit on his stomach, _Bichen _stubbornly clutched in his hands, every tired bone in his body vanished.

“LAN ZHAN!”

He half fell onto his knees, clawing for his companion’s wrist, letting out a painful sob as that pulse still beat, oh so faintly. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, what were you doing? How much energy did you waste crawling over here? Oh, my sweet Lan Zhan, why would you do this, I was coming back, I’ll _always _come back.”

He was rambling, brain half dry from leftover terror and exhaustion, as he hefted Lan Zhan’s arm over his shoulder and dragged the limp figure back to their makeshift bed.

“. . . Wei Ying?”

He almost dropped him.

Somehow, by the miracle that was Lan Zhan’s willpower, golden eyes squeezed open, glassy and dull, gazing around desperately. “Wei Ying?”

“I’m here.” he promised, settling the man down, “I’m right here.”

“. . . gone.”

“I know, but only for a bit. I had to get something.”

“You promised,” the voice was broken and warbling as he tried to tug _Bichen _out of that iron grip, gave up and just moved to hoisting up Lan Zhan’s pant leg, “you _promised_.”

“I’d be by your side, I know,” he pulled out the two packages, somehow still intact, “I’m sorry, okay? But everything’s going to be all right now. Trust this Wei Ying.”

“My fault . . .”

He blinked and looked up, “What? How the fuck could it possibly be your fault, Lan Zhan?”

“You went . . . for medicine . . .” Lan Zhan stared up at him and Wei Ying froze.

Tears were trickling down Lan Zhan’s porcelain cheeks.

“For me . . . thought . . . thought you’d died. There was a . . . a cannon blast.”

Oh.

OH.

“Lan Zhan,” he reached forward, pulling the man into his arms, “my sweet Lan Zhan, it’s okay, I’m so sorry for worrying you, but it’s all right. None of this is your fault. I took the risk and I pulled through. Don’t worry anymore. I’ll take care of you. You’ve saved me so many times, now it’s my turn, yeah? So don’t stress your beautiful head about it.”

He reached up and wiped away those indecent tears, “No more crying, okay? Everything worked out in the end.”

Lan Zhan clearly wanted to say more, but he just doubled over, shuddering and letting out a faint whimper. Needing no more encouragement, Wei Ying opened up the packages, blinking in surprise.

In one was a state of the art first aid kit. In the other, was a jar of alcohol and two metal cups.

He reached into the pristine white Gusu bag and pulled out the alcohol.

“Mispackaged much?” he blinked, before placing it back in for later and turning to the first aid kid in the wooden basket. Inside lay roles of fine bandages, stitching needles and thread, some antibiotic tablets and, best of all, a small tub of clearly lab crafted medical gel. How much money had gone into this one item?

To him, it was priceless.

“Okay, Lan Zhan,” he turned back to the swaying man, “sit back, this might sting.”

Carefully, he undid the splint, wincing at the injury. Using the cleanest cloth they had, he dabbed away the dried blood and pus, scooped up a generous finger coating of the stuff and lathered it over the wound. Lan Zhan barely reacted, swaying back and forth, delirium fully set in, as he mumbled Wei Ying’s name over and over again.

He kept verbally reassuring the man as he pulled out the needle and threat, deftly stitching the wound closed like his Aunties Jinzhu and Yinzhu had taught him, tying it off deftly and coating it in another layer of the gel for safety’s sake. After bandaging it up and replacing the splint, he contemplated trying to get Lan Zhan to swallow one of the tablets, but discarded the idea after one look at his companion - the way he was, Lan Zhan was just as likely to choke on it as get healed by it.

Slowly, he tempted Lan Zhan back down onto the ‘bed’, taking out one of his arrows and finally turning to his own injury.

It said something about his fatigue that he barely flinched as he dug in the arrowhead, poking around until it hit the solid bullet, determinedly digging it out. He took a thin sliver of the gel and rubbed it over his own injury, bound it with some bandages and swallowed a single antibiotic pill. Then, finally, _exhausted_, he crawled back over to Lan Zhan’s side, falling asleep with his ear pressing over that still beating heart, hand around the pulse on the wrist.

With the beats of Lan Zhan’s life beneath him, he finally drifted off to sleep.

“Wei Ying. Wei Ying.”

“Mm, five more minutes . . .” he snuggled closer against his warm pillow, the veil of sleep still clinging to his shoulders in determination.

Something poked him in a very sensitive part of his ribs and he yelped, startling upright and blinked.

Ah.

The warm pillow was Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan.

“Lan Zhan!” he woke up fully, beaming smile overtaking his whole face as he threw his hands around the upright teen, back as erect as a marble statue. He couldn’t stop the bubble of laughter, as he felt the steady pulse under his fingers, the sticky flush abated to just a quickly dulling warmth.

Those golden eyes were sending him a look of utmost disapproval, clear and completely coherent.

Wei Ying pulled back, grin slipping to mischievous as he glanced down at the bandaged leg. Already, his wrappings had been loosened with the decrease in swelling, and the skin poking out was now its usual jade white.

“Wei Ying.”

“Yes, Lan Zhan?” he turned, beaming and then jumped as Lan Zhan gripped his wrist and squeezed, “Ow ow ow, what’s this about, huh? How’s this for a thanks, huh?”

“You _promised_.”

“I very very very rarely keep my promises. The ones with Shijie are an exception, of course!”

“You were reckless,” Lan Zhan continued, relentless, “it was a foolish decision. You could have died. The environment was disadvantageous. Your bow wouldn’t be helpful. The escape routes were too narrow-”

“Okay, okay,” he held up his hands to quell the rant, “_damn. _Won’t do it again.”

Lan Zhan just gave him a cool look, before turning and inspecting Wei Wuxian’s leg. Now that it was morning(?), the bullet hole had completely sealed over, nothing but a spider web scar stretching out over his calf. Lan Zhan looked greatly disgruntled by it.

“You did not use enough of the gel. Now it will scar.”

“Ah, what’s one more, at this point?” he laughed, and he knew Lan Zhan’s eyes moved towards the rather nasty line splitting apart the right side of his face, brow to cheek, a memento from Day 2, “You know, there’s nothing more appealing to the ladies than a couple of war scars.”

Lan Zhan’s eyes fluttered in that barely constrained eye roll that he always used whenever Wei Wuxian brought up women, so he forged on.

“Besides, I didn’t know how much we needed. I’d much rather have some to spare for your injury than mine.”

“You should take care of yourself as much as others.” Lan Zhan grumbled and Wei Wuxian laughed.

“Aww, are you concerned about me?”

“Reckless.”

“Thanks!”

“Fool. Idiot.”

“All things I’ve heard before~” He leant right up against the man, “You’ll have to be more creative, Lan er-gege~”

Lan Zhan barely narrowed an eye, “Wang Lingjiao is dead.”

He blinked, straightening up, “Oh right, there was a cannon, wasn’t there? Did the death card say what killed her?”

“Shot.”

Huh? But Wen Chao had been approaching. . . Damn.

He winced, turning to their various packages and pulling out the tracker he’d swiped, “Little Chao probably didn’t take too kindly to her losing this. ‘True Love’ my ass.”

“Hm.” Lan Zhan looked displeased at the reminder, “Lies.”

“Well, no shit, but again with the ‘no lying’ hang up? You’d get eaten alive in the adult world, Lan Zhan,” he tutted, before suddenly perking up and nudging the other’s shoulder, “hey, hey, hey!”

“Mm?”

“You know what this means, right Lan Zhan?” he grinned, “We’re top 4~”

The other teen nodded curtly, and he grinned enough for the both of them. “So what should we do now? Maybe head back up and set some traps-”

“No.”

“Huh? Why not?” He turned, confused, “We should get a move on-”

“This location is secure, and we are injured,” Lan Zhan looked at him, withering, “We should wait to recover in full. We will take action tomorrow.”

He pulled a face, “Wait a whole day in a cave? I’ve already done that Lan Zhan, and I guarantee that it’s totally boring. We should get going - OW OW!”

Lan Zhan looked distinctly smug as he removed his grip from around the bullet scar. “We are healed. But our bodies are tired and stiff from healing. Rest should take precedence.”

“Alright, alright,” he pouted, blowing on the aching limb, “bully Lan Zhan.”

Oh, that look was _definitely _smug.

Wei Wuxian just huffed, and got to his feet to begin an inventory on their belongings.

Despite his best efforts, Lan Zhan got his way, and they didn’t leave the cave. The Lan was still heavily favouring his non-injured leg so after a few hours of tottering, Wei Wuxian drew a line and sat him back down on the ‘bed’, directing Wei Wuxian’s organising rather than helping, a task he took great pleasure in, ordering Wei Wuxian back and forth.

They had lunch, they packed some more, chatted about nothing in particular, wondered about the other two remaining Tributes and went back to packing. Around the time Wei Wuxian was pulling out some dinner, Lan Zhan felt steady enough to draw his sword, holding it up as he moved through his footwork, careful and considerate of the pressure, before moving through some routines, sword glancing off the rocks in an expert display of sparks and strikes. It was a far cry from the new perfect form he’d boasted at the beginning of the Games, but using the blade to kill no matter how, and then almost dying of a leg infection would reasonably affect one’s skill.

And then, because Lan Zhan made him feel guilty, he shot a few arrows of his own, even getting Lan Zhan to shine a light into his eyes, carefully inspecting for any remaining traces of sand.

They ate dinner, and set aside their packed bags, turning to reapply the rest of the gel over their almost closed injuries.

Another cannon fired.

Their heads both came up, but it was pointless. Until the death card was projected onto the ceiling of the cave, they wouldn’t have any clue what had happened. Wei Wuxian exhaled and turned to his partner with a grin.

“Top 3, am I right?”

Lan Zhan’s gaze slid down to meet his, before slowly nodding, and moving to pack away the medical kit back into the woven basket. Wei Wuxian slunk over to rest against him.

His fingers strayed towards the pristine white bag, and the jar within. “Man, they really messed up. Giving the medicine to the uninjured, and the alcohol to the non-drinker? Who was monitoring that packaging?”

“. . . Mm.”

“Still, I’m a little offended,” before he could think about it, he reached in and shook the bottle, “I know I’m a bit of an alcoholic, but is this really the ‘thing i need the most’? Honestly.”

He uncorked it, and took a sniff before brightening up.

“Ah? Is this-? Ahaha! Lan Zhan, this must be your Gusu’s famous Emperor’s Smile! It smells amazing.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan reproached and he laughed.

“Oh come on, whoever’s out there got one head already - they’ll lie low for a bit. I can get a bit tipsy. Ah, I’ve missed this.” he inspected the rest of the package and blinked, pulling out the two little metal cups, “Haha, they came prepared! Sure you don’t want some?”

Lan Zhan glanced at him stonily and he giggled, setting one down and filling the other, “Yes yes, I won’t challenge you anymore, Lan er-gonzi.”

He threw the shot back and exhaled in delight, “Ah~ I’ve missed this! Emperor’s Smile really is the best~ It would be much nicer if properly chilled to really bring out the subtle tartness, but lukewarm is fine for this XianXian . . . ah, Lan Zhan, what are you doing?”

As he had been crafting his complimentary spiel, Lan Zhan had reached down and picked up the second cup, before slowly holding it out. Wei Wuxian glanced between the cup and his friend’s face.

“Ah . . . are you sure?”

Lan Zhan’s eyes flashed, and Wei Wuxian held up his hands defensively.

“Ah, yes, yes, Lan Zhan is always sure of his actions, but, umm, you really don’t have to push yourself. I know I asked, but it’s fine, I’m totally not judging you for not drinking. I really don’t want you to feel pressured-”

“Wei Ying.”

“Yeah?”

Lan Zhan stared grimly down at the alcohol, “Wei Ying says it is the best. Thus I would like try it.”

He blinked, before a beaming smile took over his face.

“Really? You trust my judgement that much?”

Lan Zhan watched his beaming face piercingly, before nodding firmly and holding out the cup. Wei Wuxian tried not to quiver with excitement as he poured out the two glasses, holding his up. After a moment of hesitation, Lan Zhan did similarly.

“Cheers~” he grinned, and tipped his back, dimly aware of Lan Zhan doing the same, trying not to spill any of the precious liquor by grinning whilst drinking. It was probably a bit concerning how much this was exciting, but ’Drunk Lan Zhan’ was something he had been theorising since their first on screen argument at the Opening Ceremony.

He enjoyed the warmth as it settled, before turning to grin at his friend. “So? Shall we keep going?”

Lan Zhan blinked absently at him, the hand with the cup slowly lowering to the ground, his expression perfectly even. Wei Wuxian blinked, tilted his head and waved.

“Lan Zhan?”

Without warning, the other man tipped over in a dead faint and he yelped, placing down the cups and immediately moving to Lan Zhan’s side, reaching for his pulse.

“Shit, shit, shit, did it react with the medicine? Are you dead? Lan Zhan, I took a bullet to the leg to heal you, you can’t just go and die again!?”

Underneath his fingers was the distinct feel of a pulse, and he exhaled in relief.

Oh thank fuck.

After a quick glance over, he slowly came to the conclusion that the teen in his lap was just sleeping, eyes closed, breathing even.

He sighed. “Come on, Lan Zhan, who just passes out from _one _cup? I really wanted to see drunk you~ Now you’ve disappointed this XianXian, does that make you happy?”

No response. He sighed, moved the head off his lap and onto their jackets, before moving to tidy up the alcohol jars and cups, sealing them properly, considerably less interested in drinking now that Lan Zhan had already passed out, finishing their packing. He was just settling their weapons over his shoulder, preparing to hike them back up from where they’d been practising, when he heard a rustle from the bed above.

“Ah, Lan Zhan, you’re already awake?” he came back over to where the teen had sat up, blinking evenly at him, “Makes sense, I guess, you don’t have much alcohol to sleep off.”

Lan Zhan didn’t react, only watching him intently as he bustled about. Surprised by the lack of blushing ears, nor angry huff, he turned back.

“Ah, Lan Zhan? Tell me you don’t have a hangover. That’d be immensely pathetic.”

Lan Zhan just kept staring at him and he frowned, moving right up to his side and waving his hand.

“Hellooo~? Lan Zhan? Lan Wangji~?”

That perfect face followed his hand as it waved back and forth, intent and completely out of it. Wei Wuxian squinted, suddenly suspicious.

“Hey, Lan Zhan,” he paused his waving hand and held up two fingers, “how many?”

Lan Zhan fixated on them intently, before he reached out and clasped a finger in each hand. Wei Wuxian blinked, before laughter bubbled up and he scooted closer. There was not a single flush, not sign of swaying, but surely, _surely_. . .

“Lan Zhan . . . are you drunk?”

“No.” the other responded immediately and he couldn’t stop the laugh, biting down hard on his lips. Lan Zhan watched him, golden eyes aglow with fixation.

“Ahaha, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, what is this? You’re meant to get drunk then pass out, not the other way around!”

“Not drunk.” Lan Zhan pouted (_pouted_) at him and he nodded in happy agreement.

“Of course not! Here, I’ll get you some water . . . Lan Zhan?”

As soon as he went to move, the grip on his fingers had shifted to his wrist and Lan Zhan clung on grimly. Wei Wuxian pressed his free hand to his face, delighted smile overtaking him.

This was far better than anything he’d come up with. Drunk Lan Zhan was so cute!

“It’s okay, Lan Zhan. It’s just water, I’ll be right back. Come on now, let go,” he entreated, but Lan Zhan just turned his face away and Wei Wuxian blinked, before huffing.

“Ah, what’s this? You listen when it suits, but not when it doesn’t? That’s rather childish, don’t you think?”

Lan Zhan very visibly ignored the chiding and he snorted, kneeling down beside the sitting teen, “I’m getting you water. Else your head is going to be agony. Okay? It’s for you. I’m doing this for you.”

Lan Zhan stared at him, before nodding in agreement. Unfortunately, as Wei Wuxian pre-emptively interpreted that as a sign of release, Lan Zhan reached up and yanked off his forehead ribbon.

Wei Wuxian stared at it, and then all the blood rushed from his face, the flashbacks of Lan Zhan’s reaction following the Removal, on the night of their interviews, still very fresh in his memory bank.

“Ah, no, don’t do that, Lan Zhan!” he reached out, to try and stop him from doing something his sober self would be infuriated by, but the other just used the opportunity only caught the extended hand, and with now both of Wei Wuxian’s hands firmly trapped, he began to deftly loop his token around the two, expertly tying them together with cute little knots. One, two, three . . . Wei Wuxian just watched, amazed, as Lan Zhan tied eight knots into the ribbon where it was binding his wrists together, with the laser focus he normally only applied to his sword practice.

Then he looked up expectantly at Wei Wuxian, holding the bound wrists in his own. Wei Wuxian glanced between that cutely earnest face and his bound hands. Slowly, a bit uncertain, he held up one of his hands as a ‘thumbs up’.

“Good job?”

That didn’t seem to please the other too much, who just shoved the bound hands back, “For you.”

“Oh? Oh! Ah, thank you, Lan Zhan. It’s very pretty. But you don’t need to pay me back just for getting you water. Besides this is very precious to you.”

Lan Zhan just frowned more, shoving intently, “_For you_.”

Goodness, this earnest and sweet Lan Zhan was almost too much for him. Did he even care that there were cameras likely trained on them? He never acted this way in private, let alone when they’d been under the public’s eye. Honestly, he should probably start toning this heart warming scene of devotion down a bit, at least for Sober Lan Zhan's face.

“Okay, okay,” he nodded, placating the other, “For me. Could you undo the knots at least?”

Once again, no reaction as Lan Zhan deliberately ignored him and he sighed.

“Fine. I’ll get some water now. With bound hands. Look at you, making my life hard.”

That grip finally relented and he shuffled through their supplies, struggling to unscrew one of their water bottles with his wrists so tightly wrapped together. Sheesh, there were going to be _red lines _the following day. If his shooting was wonky, he was blaming Lan Zhan entirely.

He was distracted from his musings by a gasp, turning to find Lan Zhan up on his feet and stumbling with a grimace of pain, as pressure visibly shot through his injured leg. Alarm filled him and he hurried back over.

“Ah, no, Lan Zhan, don’t worry! I’m here, I’m back! Please sit back down.”

Obedient, the other complied and Wei Wuxian exhaled, settling back down beside him and helping him to take some sips, preventing him from just absently pouring the whole lot onto his head.

“It really hurts, huh?” he eyed the leg, face screwed up and a hard lump in his chest, “yet you were practising today so that we could move tomorrow like I wanted . . .”

He slouched down and pressed his face into Lan Zhan’s shoulder, “You’re the best. The very best. Whoever ends up with you will be the luckiest in the world.”

Steeling himself, he straightened up and beamed at the confused man, “All right! I’ve made up my mind! Tomorrow is another rest day! So don’t push yourself anymore - if you stand up again, I’ll just catch you and hold you down!”

Lan Zhan blinked at him.

And immediately went to stand up.

He startled, grabbing his shoulders, “Ah, no, Lan Zhan, what did I just say?”

He expected to fight those mountain moving arms and was thus surprised when Lan Zhan went back down without any resistance. In fact, it was almost like he eagerly sat back down.

“Caught me.”

“. . . huh?”

“You caught me.” the other repeated and he just nodded.

“Yes?”

Lan Zhan was watching him expectantly, “Catch then hold down.”

Hearing his own shameless language getting thrown back made him cough awkwardly, red flaring across his face. Of course, Drunk Lan Zhan could say that with a straight face! Of course, he didn’t know that Wei Wuxian was definitely _not _going to ‘hold him down’.

Lan Zhan frowned and just tried to stand up again.

“Ah, alright, alright, here, why don’t you come here instead?” he held out his elbows, unable to fully spread his arms apart due to the whole ‘bound wrists’ still being a thing. It was partially a joke, but he was still unsurprised when Lan Zhan promptly sat back down and pulled the arm circle over his head, happy to sit with Wei Wuxian’s arms around him and a happy, innocent look in his eyes.

He just shook his head in amusement, leaning back against the cave wall and pulling Lan Zhan to lie across his front, where they at comfortably for a few minutes.

“Hey Lan Zhan, what’s your favourite colour?”

“. . . Silver.”

“Favourite animal?”

“Rabbit.”

“Ahaha! I love rabbit too! Well, eating them.”

Lan Zhan tipped his head back to frown at him and he grinned.

“Kidding~”

“You’re not.”

“Haha, yeah, you’re right,” He sighed, “This Wei Wuxian must seem pretty dumb next the great Lan Wangji, huh?”

“Not dumb,” came the assured reply, “Wei Ying is brave. He volunteered for his sister-”

“-Tripped up his brother to prevent him from doing similarly, then sprinted up to the platform and declared ‘Gender is a Social Construct’ to justify claiming the position of Yunmeng’s female Tribute.” Wei Wuxian finished, dryly, “I am aware. It was only replayed, oh, a _Gajillion __times _in the Capital.”

He huffed in irritation, unbidden memories rising.

It seemed so long ago since he’d last seen the Jiangs, Jiang Cheng furious as he punched his arm over and over in the holding room, Jiang Yanli clutching him and crying that the only way she’d forgive him was if he’d promise to come home, Uncle Jiang saying nothing, just holding out an exquisite silver bell carved with a lotus to be his token.

On the train to the Capital, Madam Yu had sat him down, fiddling with the Zidian ring that had won her her own Games, in the way she always did when she was pissed off.

(“I will tell you two things. After them, I am your trainer, and you are the Tribute. No more no less.”

“Sounds fair.”

“Shut up. First; thank you. Of the three, you are the only one I think I could be capable of putting through this.”

He’d swallowed, but managed to somehow grin, cheeky as ever, “I’ll take that for the backhanded gratitude it is.”

“Second,” she’d continued, glowering, “don’t you fucking dare think of breaking your promise with A-Li, Wei Wuxian.”)

Now, he just huffed, tightening his arms around for Lan Zhan, relaxing in the familiar warmth pressing against them.

“Hey, Lan Zhan?”

“Mm?”

“Do you think we’ll make it through this?”

“Mm.”

Confident as ever. He chuckled, leaning down to press his face into Lan Zhan’s hair, before coming back up.

“You don’t think Wen Chao can kill us?”

“Hmph.”

Wei Wuxian laughed, rolling his thoughts over for a moment, before coming up with a great question to ask this honest and drunk Lan Zhan.

He sat up, removing his arms and waited for Lan Wangji to look at him curiously, before he pointed a finger at himself.

“And . . . what do you think about this one?”

Lan Zhan looked him dead in the eye and answered without hesitation.

“Mine.”

Wei Wuxian startled in shock, because had he . . . had the immoveable Lan Zhan who had sneered at his behaviour from their very first meeting, who had only put up with him in the Games to better survive . . . had he _seriously _just . . .?

He glanced around in confusion and understanding filled him as he turned back to his friend, tapping the white sword still strapped over his shoulder.

“Wow, Lan Zhan, you really like your sword, huh!”

* * *

Around the country, every sponsor who had contributed to Lan Wangji’s Feast package of Liquid Courage, and most of those who hadn’t, all pressed their hands together and raised their voices in universal damnation of Wei Wuxian’s density.

**Author's Note:**

> WC - 18  
WLJ - 17
> 
> WWX - 16, score of 10, used a bow and explosively rigged traps  
LWJ - 16, score of 12, used a sword made in Gusu and placed specifically for him in the Cornucopia, so that the Capital got to see Gusu's swordplay at its best
> 
> JC - 15 (Declared he wouldn't watch anything - didn't stop him from watching the entire thing through, very very frustrated and very very anxious)  
JYL - 18 (last year she could have been chosen - very stressed)  
LXC - 19 (He was not made aware of the decision to volunteer his little brother. He might forever hold it against the family elders)
> 
> Madam Yu and Lan Qiren are the trainers for Yunmeng, and Gusu respectively.  
(Although I couldn't include him, I also sort of picture NHS as WWWX's stylist)
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it ^o^!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [necklace of rope (side by side with you): podfic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26030410) by [VictoriaNotte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoriaNotte/pseuds/VictoriaNotte)


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